The Bone Man

by Vicki Stiefel

  I stepped toward the couple, wishing to be closer, to understand what they understood.

  When they were sated, he leaned over her and plucked a string of brilliant yellow desert roses that vined across a rock. He wove it through her hair, and they laughed, and then they made love again.

  Where was I in all this? A voyeur, yet somehow I was a part of it, too. I didn’t really understand, except the same warmth beamed down on me, healing my body, my heart, my soul.

  Time to go! the warrior said. He looked above Chetro Ketl, to a tall, winding stair cut from the cliff rock itself. Time to go!

  The girl shook her head. Not yet!

  Now. He reached down for her and helped her up. He handed her the carved crutch she carried always.

  You will die, she said.

  I will be safe, he said.

  She shook her head, fought the tears that dripped from her eyes.

  Yes, he repeated. He reached for the amulet pouch that hung from his neck. He widened the leather thong and reached inside. He pulled out something and hid it in his hand.

  What? she said.

  See? He unfolded his hand.

  On his palm rested a fetish. Crudely shaped, but smooth and cared for. It was blood red and glittered in the noon sun, like a ruby. A line humped its back—a tail bent upwards. The body was long, lean, with a rounded head.

  I carved it. For safety. Mountain lion will keep me safe.

  What is mountain lion?

  You will see when we go to the new place in the South. Dowa Yalanne. I have heard of it. We will make our home there. You will see. But for now, he said, I must go.

  They kissed again, passion incredible, and when they parted, her face was wet with tears.

  But her eyes, brown and liquid, glittered with hope.

  She raised . . .

  Gunfire!

  I shook my head. What had I been doing? Where was I? Where was the sun? But it wasn’t day, it was night. Not then, but now.

  The canyon, now. The breeze, sharp and biting.

  But the stairs. I’d seen them in my vision. I knew they were there. I turned. If I went straight . . . The moon shined on a glitter path. Yes, if I went straight, I would find them.

  A bullet whooshed by my cheek.

  I ran.

  Laughter followed. “I know this place, little lady,” he said. “You ain’t gonna get out. No, you ain’t. So I’m just gonna wait.”

  I stopped, bent over and caught my breath. My side ached. Now what? Ummm. I turned, so the wind slapped my face. I climbed up onto a hump of sandstone and hoped he could see me, and that I was out of range. “Oh, you’re so wrong, Dumb Dick. I know of a place. One that will lead me to freedom.”

  “Why the hell are you callin’ me that, goddammit? I’m not dumb.”

  “Sure you are, Dumb Dick.” I laughed, hard, leapt off the rock, landed in my usual awkward manner.

  “Where ya goin’, little lady?”

  This time I crouched. “Oh, Dumb Dick, I’m going up, up, and away!”

  A beam of light cut the night. It wove back and forth. I had to be crazy, but . . . I believed my vision. This was Chaco, after all.

  I stepped forward, let the light catch me, then turned and ran. Then I stopped, flattened myself on the ground, and Dumb Dick peppered the night with bullets, just as I had imagined he would.

  It actually felt good, lying on the sandy earth, some nasty clumps of something pricking my belly. Then again, maybe he’d just walk right up and shoot me.

  I pushed myself up and ran forward, hollering “Catch me if you can, sucka!”

  I ran through halls and tunnels and across kivas round and square. Like some party maze, it seemed to go on forever and ever.

  I ran straight into a cliff projection and was flattened.

  I saw stars, and not the celestial kind. I lay there on my back, took a couple breaths, rolled on my side and staggered to my feet. I felt giddy with frustration.

  If he didn’t get me, I’d get myself.

  Now if I could only find the stairs. I saw them so clearly in my mind.

  I flattened my hands on the sandstone, searching for the stairs in the dark where an overhang might hide me.

  I inched along sideways, hands pressed against the cliff wall, feet trying to find purchase on the uneven, rock-strewn ground, all the time listening, listening for Dumb Dick.

  He was there, shining his beam of light to my right, while I moved left. I sure as hell hoped I was going the correct way. My left knee, the bum one, ached. But it held. My hands stung from the scrapes and bruises. Yet I didn’t care. I couldn’t quite believe I was still standing.

  Seconds later, I wasn’t, as I tumbled to my left, into another hole.

  “Gotcha!” Dumb Dick yelled.

  He was right.

  No Taser. I searched for some rocks.

  Instead I found the stairs. I felt one, then the second, then another.

  I slipped some stones into my jacket pockets. God, my fingers ached. Had to do it. I began to climb. I was amazed the stairs were so well cut and defined. The Chaco masons had been brilliant. How could these stairs possibly have lasted so long? Yet they felt marvelously intact. Thank heavens.

  From the photo I’d seen of one stairway, it was a long, long way up to the top of the mesa. I sucked it up again, and climbed. “Come and get me, Dumb Dick.”

  “You call me that again, and I’ll . . .” A shot rang out, then another.

  “Up here, baby!” I hollered.

  I paused, listened. He was coming.

  I climbed. And climbed. And climbed. The stair was narrow, but not so that I could put out my two hands and touch both walls. I could almost feel the warrior guiding me. What a reassuring hallucination.

  I loosened some stones. They cascaded down, and Dumb Dick hollered curses at me. My heart sped up, and I climbed faster.

  The moon gave me enough light to see the twists and turns of the stair. Dumb Dick’s beam of light couldn’t follow me.

  I paused, caught my breath. I was in the high desert, which meant altitude. And I was high up on the stairway. Really high. Yet from what little I could see, I sensed I was still far from the top. Down below, the stair vanished around a curve. But I saw Dumb Dick’s light, heard more curses.

  I climbed higher, panting, searching for breath.

  I turned, looked down. Below, far below, Chaco spread out like a magic carpet in the moonlight. Stars, big as the kind kids stick on their ceilings, winked back at me. There was Chetro Ketl, the visitor center, and there, Pueblo Bonito. From up here, it looked . . . alien. As if visitors from long ago and far away had gifted man with this amazing creation of circles inside squares inside the shape of a D. Words always had been inadequate for this place.

  A cloud drifted across the moon. I remembered my mission.

  “Up here!” I shouted.

  He didn’t answer, but I could see enough of the beam and its bobbing to know where he was. He was far below me. I couldn’t imagine what was taking him so long.

  Again I heard cursing. He was coming on, getting nearer.

  I had my rocks. I slipped my hand into my left pocket and pulled out a bunch of stones. As soon as I saw the light nearby, I’d crouch in a corner of the stair and pelt him with the things.

  One more time. I could do this.

  I leaned against one wall of the stairway. I was exhausted. I slid down the wall and sat, held my head in my hands.

  A scream!

  I jumped up, blinked over and over. What had happened?

  Gunfire, more screams, a piercing yelp, then . . . silence.

  I waited for a bit. “Dumb Dick?”

  Only the wail of the wind answered me.

  It could be a trick. Sure. But if I stayed where I was, unmoving, I’d freeze to death. At least, that’s how it felt. And I had to know. I couldn’t just sit there. Could not do it.

  This was going to be hard. Really hard. Harder than going up.

  The wind howled
and clouds scudded across the sky.

  Maybe I’d just sit here for a while. Yeah.

  I sat down again. My teeth chattered. My knees did, too, and I thought of Hank and Aric, freezing in that small hallway.

  I stood, gripped the rock in my left hand, moved to the other side of the stair and guided myself with my right.

  Down I went.

  Down and down and down, until I had to stop. I was dizzy and wobbly. I checked my jeans pocket and came up with two Jolly Ranchers. I unwrapped both and stuck them in my mouth.

  Good God. Was I really eating Jolly Ranches on a Chaco Canyon staircase with a murderer waiting for me down below? I swallowed again and again. Felt good. Energized.

  Down I went. Nine, eight, seven, six, five, four. “Dumb Dick?”

  The sky cleared, hushed. Light from the east, just a hint of it, but it washed out many of the eastern stars. Dawn was on its way. I had to hurry. No dark, no way to hide.

  I almost ran down the stairs. Even with the twists and turns, I sensed when the floor of the canyon was near.

  I stopped once more. “Dumb Dick?”

  Nothing.

  He wasn’t that clever, was he? Or patient?

  The screams had sounded real.

  I never prayed. Except right then it felt like I needed to. So I prayed for safety and goodness, and I talked to Buddha and Jesus and all the gods of Chaco.

  I raced down the final stairs. If he were there, waiting, I’d surprise him with my speed.

  I hit the floor of the canyon like a rocket, and then I tripped.

  Flat on my face. My cheek stung, my shoulder ached, my knee. Geesh. My bad knee.

  I rested just for a sec, then gathered myself into a ball and turned to see what I’d tripped on in the watery morning light.

  Dumb Dick lay there, crumpled, bloody, with a bone sticking out of his shin and a rock stabbing into his neck.

  I inched forward. “Hey?”

  He was dead, all right. Just beyond where the stair emptied into the canyon. He’d fallen amidst a jumble of rocks. That was the scream I’d heard. I didn’t see how, but I didn’t much care, either.

  Just to be sure, I pressed two fingers against his carotid artery.

  Silence. His skin was cold, clammy. I shrank back.

  The flashlight was still on. It was one of those heavy-duty ones. I reached for it, and flashed the beam on his face.

  Christmas. I wished I hadn’t. His look of horror, stubbled gray beard, milky eyes, tooth poking through his upper lip.

  I shook my head. Horrible. He would have killed me. But I still felt sorry for him. I’d been lucky to make it. That was all. Lucky.

  I thought it was only right to thank the gods, and then I ran back toward Chetro Ketl and Hank.

  Dawn was near. Streaks of red fingered the sky now lit with a pale light. I stumbled my way through the warren of rooms large and small, back to the tunnel in Chetro Ketl. I flicked off the flashlight. I didn’t really need it, and I didn’t want to be any more a target than necessary. As I crossed one of the larger kivas, the wind picked up, slapping my clothes and tangling my hair.

  Where was I? Lost? God, the noise was intense. Every time I thought it was dying down, another bluster pushed me in some crazy direction. I rubbed my forehead. After all the crap with those men, I sure as hell didn’t need this.

  The howling was driving me nuts.

  I pushed forward, trudged up a small set of stairs, and there was the tunnel. I leaned against the stone wall. I was beat. I couldn’t make it to the tunnel.

  Of course I could. Had to.

  I put one leg in front of the other. The wind had steadied, and now a frothy mist drifted onto my face, like a soft caress.

  I trotted the last few yards across the round kiva, up and over a small projection, then around a rectangular hole of stones maybe a foot deep. I looked up. Black clouds boiled on the horizon. I didn’t know when the rain was coming. I just feared it.

  I ducked inside the tunnel. At the very edge, the howling was even louder. I tightened my fists, took some calming breaths. It was darker here in the tunnel.

  Paulie could be lurking. I pointed the flashlight at the ground and pushed it back on. Where had I left him? Not far from the exit.

  I hugged the wall. That’s right, they’d had some kind of light in here. So where was it. My mouth dried. He was alive. He’d gotten free. He was going to shoot me.

  I flicked off the flashlight, walked forward, so quiet, except of the wind bringing her howls into the tunnel.

  Where were Hank and Aric?

  A presence. Someone. In front of me. Paulie!

  I dropped to the floor. Pulled a rock from my pocket.

  Then someone grabbed me in both arms, pressed me tight. I tried to raise my wrist. If I could just nail him with the rock.

  He tore it from my hand. Gone. Done.

  I was done.

  I caught a sob in my throat. Now wasn’t the time to whine.

  And then I was lifted by my shoulders, my hands released, and I flipped around and . . .

  “It’s me, Tal. Hank. Calm down.”

  And I leaned against him, saying nothing, nothing, and all I could hear was the cry of the wind.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  The Ring Ding tasted great. God, it was luscious and creamy and just perfect. Perfect! I licked the center and . . . Geesh, what was I doing? Every so often, I’d close my eyes and cry. And Hank would say, “Please, don’t,” but I couldn’t help it. I leaned against the wall of the tunnel. It was surprisingly small and cozy, especially with the neat fire Aric had built. He was gone to get the rangers and call his base and find some way to remove Paulie and Dumb Dick’s dead body.

  “Except he wasn’t dumb,” I said to Hank. “I don’t think so, at least. I just called him that to piss him off.”

  “Sweetie,” Hank said. “You’ve explained that twelve times.”

  My chewing slowed. “I guess. Yeah, I guess.”

  “How’s your hand?” He poked a stick at the fire, which danced.

  “My hand.” I held up my palms. No cut across either one. Nothing. Something had happened to me in Chaco. Something that I felt more than understood.

  “Tal?” Hank said. “Coyote’s bite. Remember?”

  “Oh!” I laughed, slapped my thigh. “Coyote’s bite. Yeah. Sure I do.”

  He shook his head. “Less than two days. We gotta get back for your shot.”

  “Oh, right.” That all seemed like another reality completely. What did anything matter after last night? I rested my head in my hands.

  He threw an arm over my shoulder and pulled me tight. He rocked me, and I wept. And then slept.

  I dreamed of Chaco and the limping girl with the hope in her eyes.

  Noise! I jumped, moved into a crouch.

  “It’s okay, okay, Tal.” Hank massaged my hand, kissed my palm.

  “No! It could be—”

  “It’s Aric. The rangers. We’re all set.”

  “Oh. I meant to tell you,” I said. “I recognized Paulie. He was part of a phony National Geographic team I met back in Boston. My gut says he and his buddies were the ones to kill Didi. We’ll see.” I told him the story, and he took notes.

  “Once we ID the guy,” he said, “this thing will start to break.”

  “I hope so.”

  Several rangers filed into the tunnel. Aric was at the head. He led them over to Paulie and pointed.

  Two rangers conferred, then hoisted Paulie onto a curved red stretcher, much like they used in ski rescues.

  “Aric!” I held open my arms, and he hugged me. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

  “Us. Yeah. Right.” He hugged me tighter.

  “How’s Paulie?”

  Aric frowned and shook his head. “He didn’t make it, Tally.”

  I sprang up and ran to the body that rested in the stretcher. I tugged back the part of the blanket that covered his face.

  I turned away and leaned agains
t the wall. I rested my forehead on the cool stone. What had gone on? I didn’t understand.

  “What is it, Tally?” Hank said. “You’ve seen plenty of dead people.”

  I nodded. “Yes. But his face. It didn’t look like that when I left last night. Now, it looks . . . well, it looks just like Dumb Dick’s face. Horrible.”

  Two of the men looked at each other, and it was obvious they thought I needed a lot more rest. I sucked in a breath, turned to a ranger.

  “Come with me,” I said. “I’ll show you where Dumb Dick is. He’s by the stairs.”

  “Why don’t you wait here,” Aric said.

  I looked from Aric to Hank, both so concerned, so paternal, so wanting to believe none of the things I’d done the previous night. They’d see.

  “Do come along,” I said. “Gentlemen, ladies, I’ll show you the way.”

  The sun was a fat yellow lollipop, the sky the color of turquoise. The day had warmed, the rain had vanished, and the air was crisp and light.

  I wore Hank’s jacket. It was huge on me, and I felt like the abominable snowman as I followed the woman ranger across Chatro Ketl. I wasn’t sure if I could find the staircase again.

  Hank held my hand in his huge one, and the comfort warmed me far more than the jacket. Everyone chattered, as if two men hadn’t died in Chaco the previous night.

  “Here we are,” said one of the rangers.

  And there lay Dumb Dick’s hideously crumpled body. The park rangers loaded him onto a stretcher, and I sure didn’t need to see his face. I remembered it all too well.

  “You say you climbed the stairs?” the female ranger said.

  “Yes.” I nodded, arms tucked at my sides in an attempt to look strong. I think I swayed anyway. “If not for them, I’d have been dead meat.”

  “Um, ma’am,” she said. “I’m not really clear about this.”

  Aric snorted, shook his head. “What does she have to say? Huh?” He rounded a bend. Silence.

  “Aric?” Hank said.

  “Hold on!” Aric called.

  “Problem?” Hank said.

  “Come,” Aric replied.

  I felt like I was watching some play, as each person disappeared around the bend. Hank vanished, too, and I was so beat, I slumped against a rock. The two remaining rangers—two others had already left with Dumb Dick’s body—milled around, giving each other and me long looks.